Grieving a Loss

I ended it. Part of me didn't want to cut all ties to the friendship. Another part of me knew I'd been causing myself more harm than good for the past two years. It was unhealthy. My heart ached, and many nights I cried myself to sleep. I knew I needed to take the time to grieve this loss in its entirety, but I was tired of crying. I wanted things to go back to "normal," but I also wanted to move on - pretend it hadn't happened and go merrily on my way. I was a big girl, and I was OK.

Deep down, I knew I wasn't OK. I wept daily during my vacation, sometimes numerous times throughout the day. My insides were spent. I felt like a hollowed-out pumpkin - until I started work again. Drowning myself in work made me feel much better. My successes at work diluted the pain in my personal life, and I didn't have to think about it. I could just move on - or so I thought.

Job knew better. Upon hearing of the death of his ten children, "Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship" (Job 1:20, NIV). Using Job's example, I'm learning how to deal with loss of any kind in my own life - from the obvious to the not-so-obvious.

Tear Off My Robe
Job stopped what he was doing to grieve. As a man of rank and wealth, he had a persona to maintain and roles to fill. But none of that mattered at that moment. He tore off the very symbol of his many roles - his robe. He was no longer a patriarch, a man of wealth, a husband, a father. He shed that entire exterior to unveil a man of sorrow. The roles could not replace his loss. Other people's expectations of him would need to take a back seat to the sorrow that engulfed his very being.

When I experience loss, I remind myself to put aside my many roles and to be deliberate about attending to the wealth of emotions within me. For the moment, I am not a wife, a mother, a business woman, or a ministry leader. I am a child of God in need of releasing my pain. Everything else is secondary.

Shave My Head
Job wasn't afraid to let others know he was grieving. He could have put on another robe and continued with his duties. He could have masked his true feelings. But he didn't. Instead, he deliberately shaved his head, signaling to those around him that he would be grieving for awhile. No pat answers. No "I'm fine" or "I'm OK." The shaved head would not lie.

As I move through my grief, I'm reminding myself that I should not hide my true feelings. I can continue with my roles - even on a limited basis. But I need to be honest with myself - and others. I'm still working through my pain.

Release My Feelings
Finally, I'm learning that relief comes only when I release my true feelings. Job emptied himself of his initial pain. Then he fell to the ground in worship. But first he grieved. After I have myself a good cry, I try to thank God for the relief that comes only through releasing those feelings to him. He fills me with praise as I empty myself of all the pain within me.

By tearing his robe and shaving his head, Job began what would be a very long process of grieving his loss. We don't know how long Job mourned because times of mourning varied in Biblical times. But we do know that Job continued to grieve. Deliberately. Honestly. Alone and among friends.

I myself have been grieving for some time now, and I thank God for the moments of relief in the midst of my pain. Whenever I feel the familiar sorrow well up even the slightest bit within me, I remember Job. I need not tear my robe or shave my head literally, but I've started my own traditions when I experience loss of any kind. I write in my journal. Walk a nearby lake. Gaze at nature. Sometimes I lay on the floor with my pup and let her love on me while I shed some tears. Regardless, I tell God how I feel. Once I've emptied myself, I find that I too can worship God in the midst of my pain.

Time alone won't heal my wounds. But emptying myself of the pain is paving the way for my complete healing. And more and more, I'm finding myself falling to the ground in worship.